


you make my dreams

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought Jack Zimmermann moved out of this Haus months ago! Why is this <i>dad music</i> playing?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	you make my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> my friend introduced me to this ship less than 24 hours ago and here we are (thanks julia)

Bitty has never been much of a classic rock fan—despite Coach’s best efforts, he’s only really been able to maintain a mild interest in songs produced before the nineties. He’s not culturally ignorant, though, and can at least find some pride in his ability to recognize certain hits. Notes from Hall and Oates’ “You Make My Dreams Come True” spill out from a second story window as he walks back to the Haus from a grocery store run, and it makes him smile, a bounce in his step when he makes his way up the front porch.

Setting the two Bulldogs-patterned reusable bags rather unceremoniously on the kitchen counter— _someone_ had to start caring more about the Haus’ environmental impact beyond recycling endless cans of beer—he heads up the stairs, rapping his knuckles on the bathroom door. The unlocked doorknob twists easily under his fingers, and he steps inside, shaking his head.

“Holtzy!” Bitty exclaims, raising his voice over the water, “I thought Jack Zimmermann moved out of this Haus months ago! Why is this _dad music_ playing?"

Holster flings the curtain open, gaping with mock offense. “Can’t a man have his _Easy A_ moment in peace, Bits?” He gestures at his shampoo-spiked hair, which admittedly is not too impressive, considering he buzzed most of the fluff off the other night.

Bitty smiles, offering him a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure, but I’m still gonna chirp you for putting this dumb song on repeat.”

Holster scoffs, raising a middle finger at him. “It’s a good song!” He jerks the curtain back then, crooning the lyrics in his velvety baritone, and Bitty grins with a silent laugh.

His fingers hover at his armpit, mussing the damp cotton of his tank top in thought before he finally decides to pull it off, dropping it to the floor. He shimmies out of his shorts and briefs, then strides across the bathroom, pulling back the curtain. Holster whirls around, shooting finger guns and lip-syncing at him as the duo sings praises to their dream lover.

“I won’t complain about company,” Holster starts, gesturing at the empty space beside him, “And I know I was half asleep, but I could swear I heard you showering before you went out earlier.”

“I did,” Bitty explains, stepping inside, “But it’s hot out, and I got sweaty, so—Jesus _Christ_ , Holster! I miss playing over summer, too, but at least I don’t bathe in _icicles!_ ”

Holster snorts, letting Bitty push past him to fiddle with the temperature, “The internet says it’s good for your immune system!” Bitty shoots him a glare, unimpressed as he hugs himself.

“Aw, Bits…” Holster pouts similarly, a gentle tease as he pulls Bitty close, rubbing his biceps and back to warm him up. “If it’s any consolation, you’re pretty hot yourself. Maybe the weather’s just bad when you go outside?”

Bitty forces himself to frown harder in response, and Holster wrinkles his nose in laughter, winking to keep the shampoo out of his eye as it washes out of his hair. He feels Bitty’s lips twitch against his when he leans down to kiss him, fond and slow as the water around them starts to turn warm. Bitty sighs softly into his mouth, lifting a hand to his cheek as he gives in and returns the kiss with a smile. Holster laces their fingers together, moving Bitty’s arms in tandem with the music, and they dance along, loose and goofy.

“You really are hot, Bitty,” Holster murmurs after a moment, dragging his lips over his temple, broad hands settling on the small of his back, “And I don’t even have my contacts in.”

Bitty smiles, leaning his head against his shoulder, “You’re quite handsome yourself, Holster.”

“That’s true,” concedes Holster, grinning, “But in all seriousness, it’s nice to see ya, Bits. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Holster,” Bitty presses a chaste kiss to his neck before stepping back, “But I should probably go downstairs and put the groceries away—I don’t want that ice cream melting too much before it gets in the freezer. It won’t last long if Chowder sees it first, either.”

Holster nods along with his words, his hands dropping away from his waist, “Fair enough.”

He offers Bitty a salute, who accepts it graciously before stepping out of the shower. Borrowing Holster’s towel, he dries off quickly, pulling his clothes on again. He dares a glance back at Holster and keeps his eyes trained on the shower curtain, opening the door quietly. Halfway out the door, he punches the pause button on Holster’s phone and _bolts_ , the captain’s stream of expletives following him as his laughter echoes down the hallway.


End file.
